


Child of Cause

by StarlightCaptivator



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe of an Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Gen, Other, Sparklings, Trafficking, past Mech Preg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:02:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6923248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightCaptivator/pseuds/StarlightCaptivator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's an act most selfish, and Megatron can't bring himself to give a damn.</p><p>They'll live and succeed or they'll die and be forgotten, but at least they're together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Child of Cause

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhh, I do the love the smell of AUs within AUs in the morning. This is the start.... well, the _fic based_ start of B-Side. Giving credit where credit is most certainly due,[ Agatha really kicked off this side with her glorious art.](http://agatharights.tumblr.com/post/123577241790/do-you-ever-stumble-across-an-au-idea-that-makes) I just do the keyboard dance the muses tell me to |,D
> 
> If you're reading A-side, this diverges during Megatron's journey out and goes from there.
> 
> This is going to be set up a little different than [Succession](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6916480) and other A-Side stuff is, with multiple re-written things strung together, and some new stuff I've not flung out into the internet yet, too. 
> 
> Enjoy! :3c

 He couldn't do it.

He was halfway to Polyhex and he _could not do it._

He got off the highway at the next available exit and found a place to pull over and idle for a few minutes to clear his processor in some inconspicuous place.

Selfish thought threads had wormed their ways into the forefront of his mind and he couldn't do anything to stave them off as something whispered to him that he would be doing wrong to continue on his way. He could feel the strong thrum of his bitlet's spark inside his cabin with each passing moment, the tiny venting that adjusted perfectly to keep him at optimal temperature.

Even if he hadn't known it until he was in emergence, this was  _his_  sparkling,  _his_  responsibility and the little mech  _trusted him._

He had only _known_ him, from... _if_ he had the capacity to, from whatever point. Even in their short time together, it was obvious the little mech was priming to learn.

His resolve to give his sparkling a life better than he could provide crumbled, and coding he had no idea he was suppressing clicked smoothly into place in the form of a protective surge far stronger than the desperate panic that had waylaid him with the little one's birth.

The gladiator, Megatron, got back on the road and turned back to make the journey back to Kaon. He'd make his excuses to his comrades as he was required to or be damned in the process.

* * *

 

The excuses ended up being unnecessary, as a few the older gladiators that had stayed on after Clench's recent.... removal... took one look at the tiny mech held in the crook of his arm and gave him his space with a knowing nod. He found himself wondering how many gladiators, how many other bots of low caste and large frame - past or present - had found themselves in his position.

That first night, he introduced his sparkling to those he deigned trustworthy enough with the designation 'Drift.' It was off-key, but it suited the tiny mech.

* * *

Drift was a crafty sparkling with a bit of a temper when things were not as comfortable and nice as he would like them to be. It endeared him further to his carrier, especially when mecha who wanted to pet the bitlet without permission found themselves with fingers bitten by sharp little denta and hissed at. He was often a nasty little spitfire and Megatron couldn't be more pleased with him.

* * *

 

One and only one incident of note occurred in Drift's accompanying his carrier to the gladiatorial arena.

Megatron had been anonymously informed mid-battle that someone was attempting to set up a transaction with his sparkling as the product to be traded upon completion of the night's bouts. He was nearly on autopilot as he buried the nearest sharp object in his opponent's helm and left the ring with another clenched in his servo, slick from the spray resulting from his fatal strike.

A location query to Drift's systems told him exactly where he needed to go, and bots dove out of his way left and right at the sight of him filled with rage and covered with energon that wasn't entirely his own.

The buyer didn't have time to react as the gladiator came upon them, as the blade from Megatron's weapon cleaved his helm right from his shoulders. He pushed the jerking body aside as it fell and greyed, and turned his burning optics on the traitor. "Put. Down. My. Son."

The traitor quailed and moved slowly to put Drift- who was gnawing away angrily at the mech's arm - down. As soon as he was released, the little mech initiated his transformation sequence and burned rubbed to behind his carrier, who still stood firm in a defensive stance.

The traitor stood up straight just as slowly as he had done going downwards, his arms outstretched in the universal gesture of placation. "Now Megatron." He started, fear evident in his voice. "Let's not d-" Megatron was on him in a sparkbeat, and had his weapon buried in the other mech from the neck down in the next.

With the killing blow struck, he stood up over his opponent to watch the life drain over him. It was barely nanokliks before Drift was next to him once more, grasping his leg and hissing angrily at the dying mech. Megatron bent down and picked his offspring up, setting him on his shoulder where he could hold onto his tread casing.

Obviously he needed to rethink his sparkling-sitting stratagem.

By the time he made it back inside, word had quickly spread of what happened and the altercation that followed. Another gladiator had taken his place in the ring, so he moved past gaping audience members and fighters more intent on watching him instead of the match as he went.

 

The messages were clear, made more complex by the advent of the revolution the former miner was bringing. There would be no slave trading in Megatron's arena, and those who attempted to bring harm to he and his would be met with extreme prejudice.

 

The makeshift medbay was sparsely occupied, and so he came to the berth nearest the idling medic on duty and plunked Drift down on it. "Check him over." He ordered, startling the mech out of his glass-optic'd reverie. "Make sure his systems are clean and he's not hurt." The medic eyed him for a moment after a glance at Drift, who aside from flared armor and bared hissy little fangs, seemed fine on the surface.

"I should take a look at you first, I think I see some exposed wiring that _really_ shouldn't be o-"

Megatron's paint-peeling glare came back, accompanied by a low, rumbling growl "You shall do no such thing." His tone was restrained, but _just_ barely. "Drift comes first. I have, and will suffer much worse." The medic stiffened almost imperceptibly as someone from outside the makeshift medbay wisely filled him on what had transpired.

"Ah! Yes. Right away, Drift first."

Megatron's expression softened some, and he rested his servo on the little bot's helm as a comfort for the both of them as the medic went through scans and a physical exam. He became calm and lost his aggression with his carrier's soothing touches and demeanor, and took to nuzzling into the broad, rough digits of those familiar servos- even stained with energon as they were.

Only when Drift was issued a completely clean bill of health did Megatron acquiesce to being looked after.

Megatron held his silence as he climbed on to the designated slab, he cuddled his little one close to the plating over his spark as the medic worked on him, and in turn Drift crooned softly to his parent as the work stretched on.

It was a strange slice of domesticity in a place built of violence.

It was their own little world, only misfortune would meet the mecha to intrude upon it.


End file.
